"Then you know why I'm here?" he stammered.
"I still have a certain amount of imagination! I may think you are
a fool for taking the risk, but I can see what that idiot of a
detective might not--that if you had looted the Union Bank you
wouldn't be trying to discover if the money is in this house. You
would at least presumably know where it is."
The knowledge that he had an ally in this brisk and indomitable
spinster lady cheered him greatly. But she did not wait for any
comment from him. She turned abruptly to Dale.
"Now I want to ask you something," she said more gravely. "Was
there a blue-print, and did you get it from Richard Fleming?"
It was Dale's turn now to bow her head.
"Yes," she confessed.
Bailey felt a thrill of horror run through him. She hadn't told
him this!
"Dale!" he said uncomprehendingly, "don't you see where this places
you? If you had it, why didn't you give it to Anderson when he
asked for it?"
"Because," said Miss Cornelia uncompromisingly, "she had sense
enough to see that Mr. Anderson considered that piece of paper the
final link in the evidence against her!"
"But she could have no motive!" stammered Bailey, distraught, still
failing to grasp the significance of Dale's refusal.
"Couldn't she?" queried Miss Cornelia pityingly. "The detective
thinks she could--to save you!"
Now the full light of revelation broke upon Bailey. He took a step
back.
"Good God!" he said.
Miss Cornelia would have liked to comment tartly upon the singular
lack of intelligence displayed by even the nicest young men in
trying circumstances.
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